Chapter Two #2
Still she felt violated enough to rapidly swallow the wave of nausea that rose.
She let him retrieve the pictures from her, a curse barking from him as he handed them over to the officers before marching her back out of the room.
‘It’s becoming clear that you’ve been left for far too long to your own devices,’ he hissed as he led her down the hallway.
‘How dare you?’
‘Oh, you’re about to find out. Trust me on that.’
She hated the dual outrage and the illicit thrill that went through her at that dark promise. The very unnerving thought that she was getting the attention she’d assured herself she didn’t want from her guardian.
She’d already let herself down enough by revealing how alone and unwanted she’d felt when she’d had to attend her graduation on her own, the pitying looks she’d been subjected to since everyone knew who her guardian and benefactor was.
The Great Valenti Domene of the Even Greater Kingdom of Cartana.
Second son of the recently abdicated king. Making him a prince in his own right.
Gunnar had sent her a large bouquet of flowers with a note sending his regrets since he was on the other side of the world saving precious lives. And she hadn’t had the heart to be overly upset, because she knew he was doing what he loved.
Valenti had sent nothing but stony silence.
She’d known it. Expected it in fact after their awful last confrontation.
And yet she’d spent half of that ceremony with an eye on the door, scouring the crowd, kicking herself for hoping he’d miraculously materialise.
Apologise for turning up late. And if not crack a smile and congratulate her for sticking to the education she’d hated every second of every day—because she’d stupidly wanted to win his approval—then at least shake her hand.
Brush a whisper of a kiss across her cheek.
Deign to look at her for a scant second, even invite her to play a game of chess, like he had when she was younger and desperately wanted to forget the fog of grief hovering over her.
Lotte had hated the burning tears that wouldn’t be wished away all through the ceremony and in the long hours after when she’d logged online and allowed her adoring fans to fawn over her. Hating Valenti Domene every bruising second.
She clung harder to that resentment now, her muscles unclenching as it took hold.
‘Whatever rights you may think you have, it doesn’t give you the authority to show up when it suits you and manhandle me however you please. We have laws here that explicitly prevent you from acting like a…’
One dark eyebrow arched when she stumbled to a halt. ‘Like a…?’
‘Like an overbearing jackass!’
His head tilted, his keen gaze not straying from her for a moment. ‘Not the worst thing I’ve been called. But do go ahead. Call whoever you need to call.’
She held out her hand. ‘Give me back my phone and I will.’
‘Not happening. Your phone stays off until we get this situation under control.’
‘What? You can’t do that.’
‘And yet I’m doing exactly that.’ He turned and strolled out of the room, leaving her no choice but to chase after him like some pesky, unwanted pet.
He rasped instructions she was too enraged to hear at Leif as the police departed and he headed for the door, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he added, ‘You should know, I’m not averse to carting you around like luggage if that’s what it takes, but you probably won’t like that. So come, Lotte. Now.’
She didn’t bother pleading with Leif or the handful of guards strewn around the room and in the corridor.
Every single one of them answered to Prince Valenti Domene.
All he needed to do was lift a finger or that scarred eyebrow that somehow, maddeningly, made him hotter, and they’d jump to do his bidding.
She wasn’t about to lower herself kicking and screaming like a toddler, no matter how frustrated she was. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, those pictures had…perturbed her. It was one thing being trolled or harassed online. A post could be blocked, an app or email deleted.
That whoever it was had gone to the trouble to track her down to her home, to capture intimate images of her while she was completely unaware…
She sucked in a breath. Pushed down the resurgence of nausea. Quietly admitted to herself that she wanted to get to the bottom of this. Soon. So she could return to her life.
What life?
She ignored the taunting voice.
It didn’t matter that she’d started her social media platform mostly to alleviate her loneliness.
With her parents and one sibling gone, the remaining sibling burying his grief in his missionary work and a smattering of snobby private school friends comprising her social circle, it’d initially felt almost desperate to seek friends online.
But surprisingly, she’d found acceptance with mostly decent people who were happy for the connection. Perhaps even welcomed her input.
It’d grown into something she was proud of. Something of value, dammit.
She curled her hands into fists and hung on tight to that knowledge. Valenti Domene wasn’t going to devalue all the work she’d done. She’d given him a chance for a better connection three years ago. He’d rejected it. She would fight him tooth and nail to keep this vital lifeline.
He called up the lift.
She notched her chin and sailed into it, head held high.
And when the door slid shut, she pinned him with her iciest stare. ‘This is far from over. Believe that if you believe nothing else. And when it is over, I promise you, I’ll be ecstatic never to set eyes on you again for as long as I live.’
Anger was the reason he was so unsettled.
Anger and regret. He was doing something about the wave of helplessness that had caught him unawares. Thankfully it hadn’t made a reappearance after that one and only instance when he’d seen the pictures.
Valenti detested the invasiveness with every fibre of his being.
It helped a little that the tech geniuses and hackers he paid millions to every year had promised they’d track down every pixel within twenty-four hours.
It paid to challenge great people to greater heights.
And yes, he’d feel every millisecond of the next day, but he was also confident he wouldn’t have to live with it for long.
He was a master at compartmentalising. He’d needed to be.
Long before the tragedy that had cemented his belief that emotional attachments were a distraction he couldn’t afford, that duty and tangible goals like ensuring his family’s safety were his destiny, he’d made the mistake of believing he could choose his destiny.
Hell, he’d been well on his way. The dream he’d all but given up on—of being a surgeon—back within touching distance.
A misjudgement, a tragedy had erased all of that, leaving him with no choice but to accept the line drawn for him, a destiny he couldn’t shirk.
On those days where he strayed to within a whisker of internalising, which were rare, thank God, he envied his twin brother. Teo had given the two-finger salute at gravely muttered words like duty and responsibility and sacrifice.
His carefree twin had delved wholeheartedly into doing what pleased him with hedonistic zeal.
And while Valenti suspected it had all been a front, he still experienced flashes of uncustomary awe for Teo’s brazen rebellion.
He’d thrived the way Valenti had once dreamed of thriving doing what he loved.
Instead he’d stepped up to the plate he didn’t want, sworn allegiance far removed from the one he’d envisioned for himself as a growing boy.
He hadn’t doubted that he would excel in any chosen field. Even the one handpicked by his father and the self-venerating council who’d expected the bewildered young king suddenly married and saddled with three sons birthed by two different women, to jump to their every demand.
And when Valenti had reconciled himself with his new destiny, it’d been a simple matter of wielding the field of security and surveillance to his will and ascending to the top of that particular mountain.
Until he was simply the best in the world.
Until he’d accrued more independent wealth than he could spend in several lifetimes.
But all that had come at a great cost. He’d wanted to become a surgeon.
His father and kingdom had disagreed, pushed a different destiny on him.
Too late, he’d realised that resentment left unresolved in his heart had long ago calcified.
Fused into his being. Leaving him cold and numb to the outside world.
Most days he was perfectly content with it.
But when a crack appeared, and hints of emotion dripped through the fractures, like that brief time he’d believed his dream was salvageable because Helga, his unlikely friend, had made him believe?
Or now…
When he was reminded just why distance from Lotte was necessary?
Then he knew he needed to double down. He wasn’t completely clueless.
He recognised Lotte’s emotional neediness.
The hints of loneliness that clung. But he’d failed one sister by not saving her life.
He was damned if he would permit this unnerving state to persist. Emotions like need and desire clouded judgement.
So he forced himself to take a breath. Then another.
Forced his body not to react to her presence or her scent. Even though both seemed hell-bent on infiltrating every corner of his psyche.
‘Where are we?’ She looked around his penthouse with curious, then wary eyes.
‘This is my place.’
She rounded on him. ‘You have an apartment in Ljomi?’ It was a mixture of accusation and…hurt?
‘Yes. Where do you think I stay when I’m here?’
‘How the hell would I know? You drop in and leave when you feel like, never deigning to tell me beforehand about your comings and goings, but I assumed you…’
He stiffened when another flash of hurt crossed her face. ‘What?’
‘That you stayed with Gunnar. Or at a hotel.’